


one day i'd like to meet your mouth

by eloquent



Series: loveless birds now flock as winter friends [1]
Category: 15th Century CE RPF, Historical RPF, The Cousins' War Series - Philippa Gregory, The Sunne in Splendour - Sharon Kay Penman, The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Oxford AU because Richard and Anne are ridiculously clever, Soulmates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, mentioned elizabeth/edward, mentioned isabel/george
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 11:35:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquent/pseuds/eloquent
Summary: It isn’t easy being Anne Neville. Her law degree is falling to pieces, (philosophy is just so much more interesting) she has a horrible habit of blushing from the roots of her hair to her fingertips and worst of all, she has a ridiculous, long-lasting thing for Richard Plantagenet.Anne's workload is snowballing so she'll have to give Ned's party a miss. Richard is determined not to let that happen. How can she possibly refuse? Featuring some library flirting, a very red-faced Anne and the first dustings of snow in December. Modern AU.





	one day i'd like to meet your mouth

It’s just past 10 o’clock on a Friday night and unlike most of her flatmates, Anne Neville is sitting in the university library, staring blankly at the textbook sitting in front of her, wishing she was anywhere else. She's got in her trusty pair of earbuds, listening to some violin concerto or other for "concentration" but really all it's doing is making her head buzz. She runs her tired eyes over the same sentence for the fiftieth time but not a single word seems to sink in. Uncapping a pen, she highlights a phrase in neon yellow, hoping it will reveal something she’d simply not understood before. It doesn’t.

Sighing, she shuffles herself round in her chair and glances at the half-finished essay on her laptop, the harsh glow of the screen making her eyes sting. Moving the hands that had been propping up her head some moments ago, she lets down the tight ponytail on the crown of her head, letting the soft, red-gold hair settle around her shoulders. _Much better_ , she thinks. She hits the enter key twice with more passion that she feels for the subject of the essay, intent on starting a new paragraph. She draws a blank, dropping her head in her hands with a groan. _Who am I kidding?_

It isn’t easy being Anne Neville. Her law degree is falling to pieces, (philosophy is just so much more interesting) she has a horrible habit of blushing from the roots of her hair to her fingertips and worst of all, she has a ridiculous, long-lasting _thing_ for Richard Plantagenet. None of this is her fault, but none of it is particularly helpful at this moment in time, especially the last one. The violin concerto reaches its crescendo with a rich, luxurious sound that washes over her and just as she's getting into it, there's suddenly a soft tap on her forearm and a scrunched-up ball of paper by her hands, the scrawled script on it awfully familiar to her. Confused, Anne looks up over the top of the textbook, meeting Richard’s dark gaze looking straight at her from across the table. _Christ alive_.

“Richard!” she gasps, pulling out her earbuds with a yank, completely embarrassed even though she has nothing to be embarrassed about. He just seems to have this effect on her. “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.”

Richard knows that Anne doesn't, unlike her sister Isabel, feel the need to swear a lot. He’s visibly unbothered by her flustering though, the image of quiet confidence. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t see what else I could do to get your attention" he says, amusement written all over his features, that familiar half smile he made when he’d thought of something too sweet to share on his lips. "You seemed very focused.” 

She feels her cheeks burning and curses her mother’s pale skin under her breath, hoping he hasn’t noticed. From the twinkle in his eyes, she knows he has.

 _Damnit_.

“What are you doing here so late? Ned’s having drinks round at his tonight.”

Oh, she knew. Richard’s brother, a 4th year studying international relations, had always had a soft spot for Anne and made sure to invite her to whatever soiree he’d decided to organise. He’d always admired her outspoken nature since they were children (The Nevilles and Plantagenets were family friends) and took her under his wing when she’d first come to Oxford. She said she’d go because Isabel insisted (“George might be there!”). Yet she was here, sitting across from Richard, drowning in a sea of work and embarrassment. What a way to start the weekend. 

“I could ask you the same thing, Rich,” she retorts, the nickname escaping her lips without a second thought.  _Rich?_   She hasn’t called him that in years, just like he hasn’t called her Annie since they were small. It felt natural though, the phrase sweet on her tongue, a fond memory that warmed her from the inside out. Rich was homecooked dinners back home in Middleham with the Nevilles and Plantagenets. Rich was summers playing hide and seek in the open wood behind his house.  Rich was exchanging handmade Christmas and birthday cards every year. Richard had always been his father’s name, but he had always been just Rich to Anne. _Her_ Richard. From the looks of it, he felt the same, uncharacteristically taken aback for once.

He bounces back quickly though, sharp reactions kicking in. Laughing, he runs a hand through his mop of untidy dark hair and leans back in his chair.

“That you could. I came here to find you actually. Ned’s asking after you.”

She smiles at that, thinking about whatever debauchery was happening back at his flat. No doubt it was her ruthless decoration skills he was missing, not her companionship. Despite his grand height, Ned was utterly useless at hanging up fairy lights and every attempt he’d ever made had been a wonky mess that fell down in seconds and made Anne all twitchy. Being the perfectionist that she is (and with a lot of laughter from Ned and Richard) it is now her job to stand on a chair and fix whatever haphazard attempt Ned‘s made at lighting while he admires her sellotaped handiwork from below (“You just do it so much better Annie!” he always says as she swats him on the shoulder). She relishes the opportunity to announce “Let there be light!” at every single gathering and it never fails to make Ned whoop, but more importantly, Richard laugh. She wonders if Isabel is already on the lookout for George. No doubt her phone was being bombarded with all-caps updates via text but she’d silenced it for that very reason.

A thought, hopeful and bright all at once, suddenly occurs to her. _If he missed her so much, why was it Richard that was trying to drag her to Ned's?_  

"It's me who's come to get you because I simply missed you too much, Anne," Richard answers, the words breathtakingly genuine. She hopes she didn't just say what she was thinking out loud. Oh God, she absolutely did by the look on his face and she's so glad there's nobody around them to witness her embarrassment. _Jesus_.

There’s no time to be embarrassed around Richard though as he continues, "I'm not going to let you waste your Friday night in the library".  

"Oh, so you're here to rescue me!" she exclaims, managing to catch her breath.  Richard always did like to the play the knight in shining armour when they were small, picking wild daisies for her, saving her from George's hair pulling and always taking her side in red-faced arguments with Izzy - no matter if she was in the right or wrong. It was one of the things she had always admired about him.

 _Yes, Richard was most definitely a chivalrous prince in another life_ she decides with a grin.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," he smiles, a rare full-blown smile and she wonders if he's remembering that too.

She gestures to the towering pile of books by her elbows and the word document open in front of her, the cursor blinking threateningly.

“I’m pretty preoccupied at the moment.”

He gives her one of his looks, one of the ones where she never knows what’s going on behind his serious brown eyes.

“Anne, please don’t tell me you’re going to let me leave you in the library to write about property rights”.

His words are solemn, but the turned-up corner of his mouth gives away his amusement.

“It’s twenty per cent of my mark Rich-"

He holds up a hand, cutting her off.

“Tell you what, I’ll give you a copy of mine. In fact,” his eyes suddenly light up as he reaches across the table to snatch the crumpled paper he’d thrown earlier, unwrapping it with nimble fingers. He’s so close to her that she can see the ridiculously long dark eyelashes that frame his equally dark eyes and the freckles scattered over the high points of his face and nose. She can smell the soft mint of his breath, feel the warmth radiating off his body. She's close enough to kiss him if she wanted to (which she definitely does) and the thought is enough to set her cheeks on fire again. _Twice damned_.

Finally pulling the page taut, he gives her a smug smile.

“Aha! Here’s my property notes. Bit hard to read, but you’ll get the gist.”

“You just happen to carry around your law notes with you?” Anne remarks, laughter bubbling beneath the surface. Bloody Richard. Why did he always have a solution to everything? Ridiculously well-prepared as always. 

“Hey! You never know when your knowledge of mortgages may come in handy,” he answers. “Take them or leave them, they’ll get you a pretty solid mark.” 

She knew they would. He was brilliant at everything he set his mind to, especially his work. “Pretty solid” in Richard’s terminology meant near perfection (only he’d never say it, the most humble of his brothers).

He holds them out to her and she humbly accepts the offer she can’t refuse, too eager to finish this essay and too eager to accept the help he’s giving her. As she does, his warm hand brushes her fingertips and everything seems to burn. She leans down to shove the notes in her bag under the table, praying to all the Gods she can think of that she’s not as red as she thinks she is. Holding a hand to her scalding cheek, she definitely is. She resurfaces and meets his gaze.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“I _guess_?” he raises one dark eyebrow with a smile.

She reaches up to brush a lock of hair out of her eyesight, behind her ear. “I don’t like copying people’s work, you know that. It’s hardly fitting for a law student.”

He laughs again, the melodious sound music to her ears. “You’ve always taken the moral high ground, haven’t you? Besides, it’s not really copying” he insists, his voice suddenly softening. “Nobody could quiet your voice in an argument if they tried”. He pauses, dark eyes scanning her face, glittering with some secret. “Even if it’s about property law.”

She can’t help herself. She bursts into laughter, and so does he, but she’s glowing from the inside out. Isabel always said stubbornness was her middle name and it may as well be Richard’s too. Once the two of them had set their eyes on something, they wouldn’t stop until they got it. “That’s why you’ll make such a brilliant lawyer, Anne”, she recalls him saying to her once after a fiery debate in a lecture. The memory still makes her smile.

Back in the present, Richard is triumphant.

“Problem solved! Now you’ve got no excuse not to come to Ned’s”.

“I suppose I haven’t,” she sighs, feigning disappointment but she’s a bad actress and Richard knows it. Shaking his head with a hidden smile, he offers her a hand up and she takes it, fingers tingling when the soft skin of his palm touches hers. Helping her pack her books and laptop into her bag, (“How could you possibly need that many books Anne?” he retorts and she shoves him in response) they leave the empty library together, flicking off the lights as they go.

It’s pitch black when they step outside the main door, teeth chattering with the shock of the cold. The only source of light is the silver slip of a moon overhead and the orange glowing lampposts dotted along the short walk to student flats ahead. There's a bite to the air for the start of December and a light dusting of snow covers everything in white, some still falling from overhead.

“Ned’s invited that Lizzie Woodville over, you know," Richard remarks as they set off to the flats, leaving a trail of footprints in the snow with a crunch. 

“The one he never shuts up about?” Anne asks and he chuckles, the warmth of his breath like a dragon’s in the cold air.

“That’s the one. Do you know her?”

“She’s in some of my philosophy lectures,” she replies. “She’s been nothing but nice to me, but all I’ll say is, you don’t want to get on the wrong side of her. She’s got a sharp tongue.”

“Much like you?” Richard quips and she nudges him with her elbow. “Hey! You think I’m bad, try being in an argument with her, over Socrates no less! I think that’s the longest tutorial I’ve ever been in.”

“Ned better watch out then. Maybe he’s in over his head” he remarks.

“No, I don’t think so. Maybe he needs someone like her, he’s too laid back sometimes.”

Richard nods in the darkness, dark eyes thoughtful.

“I know what you mean. I know he’d say I’m too serious but sometimes he just drives me up the wall.” He pauses, suddenly smiling. “Although, so does George to be fair.”

“Ditto Izzy,” Anne laughs, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket as she speaks, no doubt an update on the George situation. “I think they’re a match made in heaven.”

“So do I.”

Their pace has slowed as they make their way up the lit path, two silhouettes bathed in warm light.

“It’s strange to see Ned in love,” Richard reveals, suddenly pensive. “Normally he’s through with a girl in a week but I think he’s really taken with this Lizzie.”

“She’s beautiful,” Anne says, feeling a pang of envy because she was truly one of the most beautiful people she’d ever met. Wide set jewel green eyes, silvery-blonde hair and a figure to die for, a pair of admiring eyes were never far from Lizzie Woodville. Her own hazel gaze, auburn hair and slight stature seemed to pale in comparison. "It's no wonder he's so mesmerised."

When Richard doesn’t respond, she glances his way, his expression as hard to read as his scribbled handwriting. He never said what he meant, especially around his brothers. He was serious and solemn in lectures, sweet and soulful once he’d had a few drinks and sharp and quick-witted when he was in the mood for a debate. But now he is silent, his dark eyes flicking over every inch of her face. Anne is glad that it’s so dark because her face is flushed for a third time. Her body shivers, which has nothing to do with the snow falling around them and it’s then she realises that they’ve stopped walking, the pair of them standing in a pool of light beneath a streetlamp.

“You don’t think?” she says at last, breath bated and heart hammering under her jumper. 

“I can see why my brother is so taken with her,” he starts, dark eyes nearly black as he meets Anne’s warm brown gaze, lifting a hand to cup her burning cheek. And so genuinely that she could gasp with the shock of it, he murmurs, “But my heart lies with another, Annie,” tilting her face towards his to meet her mouth.

It’s nothing like she ever thought it would be; it's so much better. It's Richard, _her_ Richard that's kissing her like he's been waiting his whole life for this. Reaching out, she twists a hand in the dark curls of his hair, his lips soft and warm as they move with hers like they’ve done this a million times before. Heart beating wildly in her chest, Richard’s hand is cool against the flush of her cheek while the other has found its way to the small of her back, pressing the two of them together like they were meant to be, the only warmth on this cold night. It is a long time before they part, breathing shallow, foreheads touching and Anne’s hands knotted in Richard’s hair.

“Are you glad you decided to come out now?” he says after a moment, dark eyes glittering.

“Shut up, Rich.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been obsessed with these two recently and reading "The Sunne in Splendour" and re-watching "The White Queen" isn't helping matters. I wrote this in one sitting so I might go back and edit (or maybe even do a follow up chapter). Feel free to leave a comment (they are very much appreciated!) <3


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